


the whole of him

by allthebros



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: First Time, Gay Porn Hard, M/M, PWP, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 10:35:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10683531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthebros/pseuds/allthebros
Summary: Patrick did nothing else for this moment but live with inconvenient erections since they talked about doing it, only showing up at Jonny’s door in sweats and a t-shirt and his morning-long semi he’d made sure to trap in the kind of tight underwear that would make Jonny proud. Well fine, Patrick also did some video research. Watching review tapes is important.But Jonny--fucking Jonathan Toews--he gotreadyfor this.





	the whole of him

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the second edition of GPH 2017. (Go Hawks!)
> 
> Thanks to sorrylatenew, as usual, for holding my hand and indulging my whining.

 

 

“You shaved your ass.”

It comes out breathy and blunt at the same time, Patrick unable to think past the shock of it. Past the sight of Jonny’s smooth taint and even smoother hole, dark pink there at the center and soft-looking peach everywhere else. Past the visible clench of it in the deep silence following his words, the small shift of Jonny’s body when it seems he’s gonna pull away from Patrick, but presses back into his hands instead.

“It’s, uh, waxed, not--waxed it, yeah,” Jonny says, voice muffled into the pillow, face turned into it like he’s trying to hide, a slash of red at the back of his neck.

Patrick blinks and swallows, does not give a fuck after the technicalities of how Jonny made himself look this way. He has a fly-away thought of finding the person who Jonny paid to do this to him, to thank them for a job well done and compare notes, because Patrick’s sure this is the prettiest asshole in existence. 

He’s gonna eat the fuck out of it. 

///

Now, Patrick’s an analyst by nature. He watches, he memorizes, he remembers, and he finds the cracks in other people’s plays to exploit and win. After hockey, Jonny’s the greatest, most ass-tastic play he’s ever had to figure out, learn by heart, and then mercilessly exploit.

“I’m not a--” Jonny spluttered that one time Patrick told him, and fuck him it’s a _compliment_. “And don’t use that word, jesus.”

“Ass-tastic,” Patrick replied, dragging out the S and clicking the K sound, leaning down over Jonny’s dick, a blowjob feint he turned into a quick finger in, crooked right up to tap hard where Jonny’s the weakest. Boom, top shelf. “Like a fucking shootout.”

He has to give it to Jonny, though, he can’t say he saw this move coming. 

That’s okay. Patrick’s also quick at thinking on his feet, rolling with the punches, improvising. But not fucking quick enough for Mr Toews over here, apparently.

“For fuck’s sake, Pat. Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” His whole neck’s red now, a bright colour spread nicely to the top of his shoulders, the side of his face Patrick can see. He’s not fooling anyone.

“Tempting. But you like this,” he says as he slips a hand between Jonny’s thighs, sure to avoid his taint and hairless balls--wants his lips to be the first thing to feel that new smoothness. Jonny’s dick is hard and heavy, wet at the tip when Pat skims his fingertips over it, not giving him more than that. “Wouldn’t make yourself so pretty if you didn’t.”

“Didn’t want you to get hairs in your teeth,” Jonny says, looking back at Patrick with a slant to his mouth that says he’s being nice, but his eyes are too dark and too unfocused to lie about how much into this he already is.

“Sure, buddy.”

Jonny slides out the hand he’s got under the pillow to give him the finger.

Patrick huffs out a laugh, catching his tongue between his teeth. He stretches his hands wide over Jonny’s cheeks, spreads him open once more, like he did earlier, and yet he’s caught off-guard by the sight of him, unprepared all over again. This will be one of those things that Patrick will never quite get used to, he can feel it. Like that first press of his dick inside Jonny, or the hot twist in his gut when Jonny comes inside him. Like the flutters in his chest when they kiss. Like loving the whole of him. 

“I’m going in,” he says to make Jonny laugh, to push past the squeeze of that feeling inside him. 

He leans down, keeps watching while he lets spit build up in his mouth, takes a good long look at Jonny this way before he goes and mess him all up. 

Jonny smells clean and soapy. A scorching hot, Dove-scented punch to Patrick’s stomach at the realization of just what Jonny did in anticipation of this. Patrick did nothing else for this moment but live with inconvenient erections since they talked about doing it, only showing up at Jonny’s door in sweats and a t-shirt and his morning-long semi he’d made sure to trap in the kind of tight underwear that would make Jonny proud. Well fine, Patrick also did some video research. Watching review tapes is important.

But Jonny--fucking Jonathan Toews--he got _ready_ for this.

Patrick thinks of letting the spit he’s got filling his mouth go over Jonny’s hole, let it drip down the line of him, over his taint and his balls, but he catches a whiff of that soapy smell again and he’s hit with the urgent need of getting in there, as close as possible. Wants to feel that hairless smoothness, that readiness of Jonny’s, all over his fucking face.

Jonny swears, not quite a shout, but would be close to that if it wasn’t half buried in the pillow.

Patrick presses in, nose smushed into Jonny’s skin, hands pulling him apart even more to give himself some space, lips right on Jonny’s hole. 

He kisses it.

Purses his lips, feels Jonny’s rim against them, the hot clutch of him right there, right where he wants it. 

The first lick is messy and wet. Spit floods out of his mouth, down Jonny’s ass and over Patrick’s chin. He dips quick to catch the trail of it on Jonny’s balls and drags the wide of his tongue all the way back up to Jonny’s hole, Jonny’s skin so soft, it makes Patrick’s dick jump in his underwear.

Patrick’s thought so much about this lately. About what he’d want to do and how he’d want to do it and how that might feel. He thought he’d tease Jonny at first, give him quick licks of the tip of his tongue over his rim, blow on it just enough to make him feel the coolness of the spit. He thought he’d built up to it until Jonny asked for more, and more again when Patrick only gives in inch by inch.

So. Things are not really according to plan, but rolling with the punches, improvising. Turns out, Patrick’s all-in when it comes to eating ass.

He does it again. Presses wide kisses over Jonny’s hole, makes his lips soft for it, rubs with them until he’s got enough spit in his mouth to let go.

On his third time back up, Patrick stops at Jonny’s taint, mouth wide over it. He’s drenched here as well, makes it easy to press the flat of his tongue over that skin and move his head, lets it slip over the slick, smooth skin. He can’t get enough of that feeling.

The suck he gives it pulls a low groan out of Jonny. Patrick opens his mouth wider and sucks harder, drags that suck up to Jonny’s hole, hollowing his cheeks.

“Pat--” Jonny says, voice tight. “Jesus, you gotta--” He jerks forward and Patrick lets him go, replaces his mouth with two flat fingers that he strokes over Jonny’s hole. Soothes the wet, red skin of it with steady pressure he knows Jonny loves.

“You okay?” he says, mouth on the top of Jonny’s ass. He gives it a kiss then wipes his chin over it.

Jonny’s back is covered in sweat, his neck now the deep, violent red of hockey games and the most demanding of practices and workouts. Jonny shakes his head, rubs his face over the pillow then looks at Patrick.

He’s always beautiful like this, Patrick’s always thought. Even before he got Jonny in bed. The sweaty, worked up look of him, skin flushed, glistening, literally dripping. He looks exactly like that during and after sex and that’s made locker rooms very uncomfortable for Patrick.

Jonny never gets that look in the locker room, though. There, he’s sharp focus. But here, when they fuck, the control’s just not there. He tries, Jonny, sometimes he tries, but there’s always that quality to his eyes that’s just a bit wild, liking it too much to not give into it.

“Didn’t want to come,” Jonny says. “No yet.”

“Shit, Jon.” Patrick rubs harder with his fingers and slides them down and around to Jonny’s cock. Jonny jumps, like he’s been shocked, hissy moan between his teeth. The head’s all tacky under Patrick’s fingertips and he finds the wet, sticky spot on the sheets easily, right under, where Jonny’s been leaking. “Could you? Without--?”

He can barely form the thought.

“Dunno,” Jonny says, taking a deep breath. “It felt like… like it could. Like maybe.”

“That good, uh?” Patrick smiles against Jonny’s ass, drags his teeth over the round, hard muscle of it, knowing he looks way too proud of himself because Jonny tries to glare at him.

“Too good,” he says, shifting under Patrick.

“Want to stop?”

Jonny looks at him like he’s lost his damn mind. It’s hilarious. “Fuck, no.”

“Attaboy, Jonathan.” He gives Jonny’s ass a light slap, readjusts himself behind him. 

A wide, pressing lick over the rim gets him a, “fuck, shit,” and sudden fingers in his hair, Jonny reaching out behind him, not quite holding him, but heavy enough Patrick thinks he wants to grab but is keeping himself from doing so. He makes circles with the tip of his tongue, punching out another low groan out of Jonny, something deep that feels yanked out of him.

It’s the little sucks that seem to do it for him, wet and tight and right over the center of him and around that skin. They finally get the fingers into Patrick’s to take hold, and it doesn’t feel demanding when they push Patrick closer, keep him right there, but more desperate, fearful that it’ll stop somehow and Jonny can’t bear the idea of it. 

He’s making these breathy grunts that Patrick loves, dick getting thicker between his legs, and Patrick’s been good so far, getting off on this as much as Jonny in his own way but fuck, he’s got to touch himself.

He grabs Jonny’s wrist, tugs at it until Jonny lets go, brings his hand to his ass instead. “Hold yourself open,” he says, mouth still right up to Jonny’s skin, gives his hole another wet swipe by way of apology. 

Jonny’s fingers slip in the mess Patrick’s made on his first try and Patrick gives them little nips of his teeth once he’s got a hold of himself, keeping himself open. Patrick has to squeeze his eyes shut at the sight of him doing it. Has to finally get his free hand into his underwear and tight on his cock, sliding his mouth back to Jonny’s taint at the same time.

“‘S good,” Jonny says, voice slurring. “Fuck Pat, it’s so--”

Patrick moans. His face’s a mess, wet over the chin and cheeks, his jaw’s starting to ache, but he gets back up again anyway, lets more spit flood over Jonny’s hole, and it’s easier this way to use the tip of his tongue, try to open him that way.

Jonny’s fingers and knuckles bump over his cheek. He smells nothing like soap anymore.

///

“Come on me.”

Jonny’s voice doesn’t register right away, but he moves his hand until it’s nudging at Patrick’s face. Patrick pulls back and blinks. Blinks in the sight of Jonny’s ass held open by both their hands, the pretty pink and peach of before dark and red and sloppy-looking now, glistening in the afternoon light. 

He swallows twice, throat dry. “What.” 

“Come on me. On my--” 

He hadn’t realized how close he was until the moment he sees Jonny slips a fingertip into his own hole, made easy and loose enough by Patrick’s mouth. His forearm aches with the movement he’s been keeping going on his dick, fast and just this side of too tight to be good but not too good. 

Heat swoops deep in his gut, his heart kicks, and he’s there. “Fuck, move your hand--move--”

He’s pulsing out before he has time to properly raise himself, catching the back of Jonny’s thigh, but then he’s coming over his hole, his taint, his balls with a loud grunt he can’t stop, eyes going hot and wet when he presses the head of his cock on Jonny’s rim, spurting in the groove.

“Next time,” he gasps, shivery with spasms. “Next time I fuck you, I’m gonna--” He licks his lips, rubs his jizz into the slick mess. “Gonna eat it out, babe. Right out of you.”

“Oh shit, fuck--Pat--I need--”

Jonny’s raising himself on his other arm, reaching under him before Patrick has time to react, sees how hard and dark Jonny’s dick is, leaking precome over himself and the bed. He wants it. Wants that ache still.

“Wait,” he says, flops to the bed and scoots under Jonny, pushing his knees apart to fit his shoulders, a wrestling move that gets easier when Jonny catches on and straddles him. “Fuck my mouth. Come on my face.”

“Motherfucker,” Jonny grits out between his teeth, dick bobbing and catching Patrick on the chin.

Patrick tilts his head back, catches Jonny’s dark eyes upside down, feels how he must look, face wet and red, looking exactly like someone who just ate ass, like something new that Jonny’s seeing for the first time. 

“Do your worse,” he says with a smile, shifting his shoulders flat to the bed and opening his mouth.

Jonny groans and slides in deep.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I post 1988 ficlets on tumblr under the same name, come say hi!


End file.
